


A night to remember

by Johnlock_fanfic_writer



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bisexual John, Boys In Love, Drunk John, Drunk Sherlock, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Gay, Gay Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, John Watson In Love, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Sherlock in Love, Smut, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock_fanfic_writer/pseuds/Johnlock_fanfic_writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have a little too much to drink at stag night and the truth finally comes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A night to remember

John knew even as he poured the liquid down his throat that this was a bad idea. This was going to be one too many. If bloody Sherlock Holmes had calculated his alcohol limit, he was certain it was correct. Sherlock never made mistakes.  
So why did he do it then? He knew why. Deep down inside he knew. There was a reason why they called it liquid courage. He wanted to lose control. To have an excuse. Not that he was ever going to admit that to himself though.

He brought their drinks over to the table, and on the short way over he almost forgot which one contained the extra shot. He managed to figure it out though. Barely. John felt the sweet warm, secure feeling that came with drinking flowing through his body. On second thought, it might just be that he was looking at Sherlock. Looking at Sherlock was an experience all to itself, and one that John took great pleasure in. He was mesmerized by Sherlock’s gorgeous black hair, his cute cheekbones, and his lips. “Oh God, his lips…” John had lost count of how many times he had wanted to lean in and kiss those lips.  
“Here you go mate” he said cheerfully and handed Sherlock his drink. Sherlock grinned, which was unusual for him, and it made John happy to see him like this. “Cheers” Sherlock said, and downed the entire thing. John chuckled. Pleased with how clever he had been.  
“Where are we of to next?” he asked. Sherlock put his empty glass down on the table with a loud thump.  
“Waterloo station” he announced. John tried to think. He knew of the murder, of course. Tragic story that. But he couldn’t say that he knew of any bars around the area. Except of course…  
"Sherlock, that’s a gay bar” he said, mildly surprised.  
“What?” Sherlock asked. The music apparently so loud he couldn’t hear him.  
“Ehm, nothing.” John said quickly. “Maybe this could work to his advantage?” his brain plotted. “Stop it John” he told himself. “Sherlock isn’t gay, and you are getting married. What the hell is wrong with you!?” Suddenly he wasn’t feeling very festive anymore. He just wanted to get this over with.  
Sherlock was looking very intently at him, no doubt trying to deduct the reason for John’s sudden mood change. But it turns out deducting doesn’t work all that well when you’re drunk. It was hilarious to watch the great mastermind struggle, and John couldn’t help it, he laughed, already feeling better. Sherlock usually had that effect on him.  
“Come on” he laughed. “Let’s hit the next one then.” Sherlock nodded in agreement, glad to see John was happy again, and took his arm. John tried very hard not read too much into that.

Sherlock had let his hand slip into John’s, and he could feel his shoulder brushing against his friend every time they took a step. It felt nice. Being out here with John was nice. John was always nice. Nice. He even smelled nice Sherlock noted before he could help himself. “Stop it” he thought angrily, but it was proving very hard to fight the impulses when he’d had this much to drink. Sherlock didn’t drink. Ever. Unless it was for a case of course. He didn’t like the way it slowed his mind. He needed to be in control of his emotions. Especially around John.  
He glanced over at the man next to him. They had decided to walk to the next pub since it was only a few blocks away and it was a warm night. John was wearing one of those ridiculously oversized sweaters that Sherlock both simultaneously loved and hated. He knew that John had a great body. He’d seen it tons of times around the flat when John was getting into the shower. Yet for some reason John kept insisting on wearing those stupid sweaters. John was smiling. Sherlock liked when John was happy. It gave him a warm feeling inside. Then, because he was so happy, and completely without thinking, he reached down and kissed John on the top of his head. John froze. As did Sherlock. “Oh God, what had he done?” John turned to look at him.  
“Ehm… Did you just…” He cleared his throat. “Did you just kiss me Sherlock?”  
Sherlock didn’t know how to respond. He had done it. He had kissed the man. To be fair it was just a peck on the head, but he’d done it. Sherlock decided that the best course of action was to blame it on the alcohol. He giggled.  
“Yeah, sorry about that” he said. “Don’t know what came over me.”  
John was eying him strangely, and Sherlock was doing everything he could to hide his current thoughts, which all involved pushing John up against the wall behind and kiss him hard.  
“Right...” John said slowly. “Ok.”  
They began walking again. Still hand in hand Sherlock noted happily. They were just around the corner from the gay bar now. Of course he knew it was a gay bar. He had heard Johns questioning tone, but chosen to ignore it. He wanted to hit the gay bar. It was his only chance to dance with John. “What was interesting” he thought, (and why was this only now occurring to him? Damn alcohol!) “was that John had known that this was a gay bar.” Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. “John knew because he had been before!” John was watching him.  
“Are you coming?” he asked.  
Sherlock looked at the man he knew he could never have. The lamplight hit his face just right making his eyes sparkle. He had suspected it for a long time of course. Ever since the day they first met really. John was bisexual. He knew now with absolute certainty. He just wished he had put it to the test sooner. “Too late for that now” he told himself. “John is with Mary, and he is happy.” And Sherlock would never to anything to screw up Johns happiness.  
“Coming” he replied, trying to sound cheerful.

The bar was extremely crowded and exactly the way John remembered it. The music was loud, there were lots of drunken people, and the room was dark and poorly lit. He headed straight for the bar (he needed another drink) and Sherlock followed him there.  
The bartender was really eying Sherlock John noted with irritation, “but then again he thought, “Sherlock was the sexiest man in the room, so who could blame him?” And sure enough, it didn’t take long before a dark haired, good looking, young man came up to them and started hitting on Sherlock.  
He leaned in on him with a smile.  
“Hello gorgeous” he purred. “Care to dance?”  
John was certain that Sherlock would freak out and become very uncomfortable. He didn’t imagine Sherlock as very skilled in the art of seduction, but to John’s utter amazement Sherlock smiled at him. Smile? Did Sherlock really just smile? As John was trying to grasp this new unknown side of his friend, Sherlock then did something even more unexpected. He reached over and grabbed John’s leg. John’s breath caught in his throat. And all his thoughts disappeared. Sherlock gently squeezed his leg, and John thought he was going to die.  
“Sorry” Sherlock said to the other man. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”  
The man looked at John like he couldn’t believe how a man like him had landed someone as beautiful as Sherlock, and John felt himself get a bit annoyed. He slipped of his chair and went to stand behind Sherlock. He then put his arms protectively around him before he leaned in and kissed Sherlock’s cheek, still while eying the other man. He shot him a look that said; “He’s mine. Now get lost before I hurt you.” The man actually looked a bit frightened, and he quickly disappeared. John was feeling very pleased with himself. Then it suddenly dawned on him what he had just done. He quickly let go of Sherlock who let out a small breath of air. “Oh, I’m sorry Sherlock” he stammered apologetically. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”  
“Oh no, it’s fine” said Sherlock hoarsely. Was it just John, or did his voice sound darker?  
Another man was eying Sherlock now, and John felt that maybe they should leave. But he really didn’t want to. He had hoped to get a chance to dance with Sherlock before the evening was over, and this was the only place where he would have a legitimate excuse to do so.  
“That man is eying you” he told Sherlock and Sherlock moaned annoyed.  
“Not again” he muttered, and John felt a bit sorry for him.  
“Maybe we should..” he started to say.  
“Quick, dance with me” Sherlock said, and grabbed John by the hand. John could hardly believe his luck. Sherlock was really an excellent dancer John noted. Where had he learnt to do that? But, then again, what was it that Sherlock didn’t know how to do? The man was a wonder. Because of the crowded dancefloor they had to dance very closely together. Not that John minded, but having Sherlock this close was making it extremely difficult to think rationally. He kept eying Sherlock’s body with longing. He knew he should feel bad about having these thoughts when he was soon to be married to Mary, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to care about that right now. Not when Sherlock’s body was pressed so tightly against his that he could feel every move the man was making. He had to stop himself from moaning several times.

Sherlock was having a hard time controlling himself. At some point he had even put his arms on Johns hips, and their bodies were now only inches apart. John had responded by putting his arms around Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock couldn’t for his life figure out why he’d done that. Maybe if he hadn’t been completely hammered he would have been able to figure it out, but as it was he was having a hard enough time just trying to control the urge to lean in and kiss John senseless.  
The song came to an end, and like in every cliché ever made, the DJ decided to play a slow tune. Whatever happened to originality?  
John looked insecure. He pointed towards the exit, and Sherlock realized with terror that he was going to ask if he wanted to leave. He was most definitely not ready to leave yet. So he pretended not to notice John’s discomfort and pulled him closer. The smell of him almost killed him right there. God, how was it possible for one man smell this good? He let his hands slide down Johns back, and, he didn’t know where he got the nerve to do such a thing, let them settle on his butt. John drew a sharp breath, but he didn’t withdraw like Sherlock expected him to, instead he rested his head against Sherlock’s neck with his arms around him. They stayed like that for the entire song. Both of them lost in a perfect moment. And when the song ended Sherlock would rather have given up his left arm than to let go of John.

The cab ride home was a lot of fun. Sherlock kept making loud deductions about the cab driver to the driver’s big annoyance, and according to Sherlock he had lived a very interesting life prior to his carrier as a cab driver. At one point Sherlock deducted that he had been a famous clown, working for a Swedish circuit. John was pretty sure Sherlock was making up most of this stuff just to entertain him, but it was funny never the less.  
He made sure to tip the driver handsomely when they arrived at Baker Street. He knew they were starting to get a bit of a reputation down at the cab office, and he wanted to make sure that someone would want to pick them up next time.  
“Come on John” Sherlock giggled. “I have a whole bottle of scotch we can drink too!” He seemed to have completely forgotten about his alcohol intake control.  
John figured that he rather liked drunk Sherlock. Drunk Sherlock did things that John would never have imagined in his wildest dreams, (well, maybe in his dreams), so he wasn’t about to object to more alcohol.  
“Coming” he said cheerfully, and followed him inside.

Getting up the stairs was proving exceedingly difficult. They both tried to walk at the same time which caused them to fall down. Repeatedly. They then tried to do the exact same thing three more times. “What was that thing that Einstein said again?” John thought. “About idiots?”  
They were about to try for the fourth time when Sherlock stopped him.  
“Wait a minute John!” he said as a thought occurred to him. “I don’t think this is going to work.”  
John thought about it.  
“You’re right” he exclaimed. “We have to try something else!”  
They both paused to think.  
“I know!” Sherlock announced. “I will carry you!”  
John was very insulted by this.  
“You will not!” he protested. “I am much stronger than you! I was in the army. Remember?”  
Sherlock took this into consideration.  
“Ah, yes!” he said after some time. “But you are getting married. And the bride always get carried into the house.”  
“That is true…” John thought to himself. “Can’t argue with that.”  
“All right then” he told Sherlock. “Carry me.”  
Sherlock grinned happily, and came over to stand next to John. He put his arms around John’s waist, and John felt like a thousand butterflies had been released in is stomach. Sherlock tried to lift him. It didn’t go very well. He crumbled under the weight of him, and John came crashing down on Sherlock.  
They both screamed with laughter. Sherlock was trapped under John, and the weight of his body was pinning him down on the stairs. John was looking right into his eyes, and there was a shift in the atmosphere. They both grew very quiet.  
Sherlock was looking into his eyes as well, and John could hear Sherlock’s breathing slowing. Their lips were only inches apart, and it took all the self-control that John possessed not to reach in and finally kiss those beautiful red lips. Neither of them moved. Time stood still.  
Suddenly there was a noise.  
“Mrs. Hudson!” they both exclaimed. They tried to get up but they were too stuck, so they just pretended to be asleep when she came around the corner.  
“Back so soon?” she asked, sounding surprised.  
“Soon?” John thought confused.  
“It’s only been two hours” she informed them.  
“God” John thought. “Really? Two hours?”

They managed to make it up the stairs this time, and John suggested a ridiculous game that Sherlock had never heard of. He caught on quickly though, and honestly it didn’t really matter to him what they played. He just really needed to cool off a bit. And he needed to stop thinking about John. To stop thinking about his tight, gorgeous, sexy body pushing against his and… “No! I am not thinking about John” he told himself firmly.  
He picked a random name from the newspaper, some stupid singer or what not, and the game was on. He hardly even heard John’s questions. All he could think about was how it would be too push him down into that chair and kiss him into oblivion. “Stop it!” he said to himself.  
John was looking at him expectantly. He had asked him a new question and was waiting for an answer.  
Sherlock searched his brain. What had the question been? Oh yes. John had asked if he was beautiful. Like that was even a question. To Sherlock he was the most beautiful man in any rooom. He didn’t know however, if the woman in the note on John’s forehead was attractive, so he gave him a dismissive answer.  
Then something wonderful happened. John leaned in and touched his knee. He had definitely touched his knee. Stroked it even.  
Sherlock looked up at him. It couldn’t have been an accident. Could it? But John wasn’t doing anything to indicate that it meant something.  
Sherlock sighed. This was hopeless. In fact it was torture. John was getting married. He knew he was getting married. This was his stag night for God’s sake, why couldn’t he let this go!? He had always been brilliant at suppressing his own feelings. He felt himself get annoyed. He didn’t want to play this stupid game anymore. “I don’t know” he told John. “I don’t even know who you are supposed to be.”

A woman appeared with Mrs. Hudson in the doorway. “Oh for God’s sake” John thought angrily. “Are they never going to leave him alone?” He looked over at Sherlock. He wanted the man for himself. Was it too much to ask for that he could have him for himself? Just for one night? He looked over at the short woman in the doorway. Apparently it was. She reached out her hand and introduced herself. John missed the name. He didn’t care if she was a reincarnation of Jesus Christ himself, he just wanted her gone. But oh, no such luck. Sherlock of course, wanted to check out the bloody case. “Of course” John thought bitterly. “The case always comes first.” Which really wasn’t fair, but he was drunk so he figured he was allowed.

The so called “ghost house” was a huge disappointment. What was not disappointing however, and proving to be a huge source of entertainment for John, was watching Sherlock trying to examine a crime scene while drunk. The poor woman was looking more and more stressed out, and the landlord was looking more and more annoyed. John couldn’t really blame him. Come to think of it, he couldn’t understand why he’d let him and Sherlock inside in the first place. Maybe he was drunk too?  
Sherlock was trying to examine the carpet for evidence and John was busy eying his amazing butt.  
“Good God” he muttered under his breath. He wanted so badly to walk over there and touch it. Just put his hands on Sherlock’s beautiful butt and squeeze it. He had fantasized about Sherlock’s behind so many times. He’d even dreamt about it. And it was just within reach... So close. Sadly, the moment passed before John worked up the nerve to do anything about it. John kept watching him work. God he was gorgeous!

When Sherlock threw up all over the crime scene (John was rather pleased with himself for guessing the correct word, _crime scene_ ), John knew it was only a matter of time before the police would show up.  
“Do you want to make a run for it?” he asked Sherlock. Sherlock nodded. And then they were flying down the stairs as fast as they could, which really wasn’t all that fast when you've had that much to drink.   
Naturally they tripped, and for the second time that evening they found themselves lying on top of each other in a flight of stairs.  
John’s breathing slowed. As did Sherlock’s.  
Their eyes locked once again, and John took in the beauty of the man. He was without a doubt the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he loved him so much. “John…” Sherlock whispered hoarsely. John wasn’t imagining it. He could definitely hear it this time. Sherlock’s voice had gotten darker.  
“Sherlock” John whispered back. It sounded like a longing. And it was.  
Before he knew what he was doing he had reached out his hand and was stroking Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock let out a soft moan and John was a shocked. Sherlock had closed his eyes and was moaning. Watching Sherlock’s mouth make those sounds was killing him. He needed to feel Sherlock’s lips on his. He didn’t care what it cost him. He didn’t care about Mary, about the wedding, or even about not being gay. There was only Sherlock. Who was he trying to fool anyway? It had always been Sherlock. He would always choose Sherlock.  
John leaned in the last inch and he kissed him. Sherlock’s eyes flung open in surprise. At first it was just a meeting of lips, but then Sherlock moaned again, and then they melted into each other. Sherlock grabbed a hold of John’s sweater and pulled him closer, and John went willing. Sherlock then started to run his hands all over John body, and it was John’s turn to moan.

John didn’t know how long they had been snogging when the police showed up, he only knew that it wasn’t nearly enough. The officers had to pull them apart, and both John and Sherlock were grinning and giggling like a couple of teenagers. The officers then suddenly recognized them and were stunned to silence. They both looked completely shocked.  
“Wait till I tell Lestrade about this!” one of them shouted.  
“Hell no, I want to tell him” the other protested.

The ride to the police station was fantastic. Sherlock vaguely noticed that the police officers were watching them, but he really didn’t care. He was kissing John like he had been living his entire life in complete darkness and John was his first glints of sunlight. He could not believe that this was happening. John was touching him everywhere, and it just felt so unbelievably good. He only wished they hadn’t been arrested, otherwise they could have been at home right now, in Baker Street, in his double bed. Sherlock had a few things he would love to show John.  
At that thought he climbed into John’s lap, putting his back to the officers to block their view. He then slid his hand down into John’s trousers and gently touched the tip of his cock. John fell into him panting heavily.  
“Sherlock” he gasped.   Sherlock hushed him, and moved on to kissing his neck. Johns hands were unbuttoning his shirt, and Sherlock had a moment of clarity where he was thinking that it might not be the best idea to undress in the back of a police car, but the thought was soon abandoned when he felt John’s strong hands on his chest.  
“I want you” John whispered in his ear, and Sherlock nearly died on the spot.

“Hey!” the police officers yelled. “That’s enough. Knock it out you two.” Sherlock scoffed. If they had really wanted to stop them they could have done so easily by cuffing them to opposite sides of the car. But they hadn’t, because ultimately, they found this entertaining. The fact that they were just now concerned with how John and Sherlock looked meant that they were approaching the police station, and they didn’t want the other officers to see that they hadn’t done their job right. While Sherlock didn’t’ give a shit about what the rest of the world thought about him, he knew that John struggled with the whole gay thing. He was also getting married to Mary, and Sherlock wanted him to still have the option to do that, should he choose to. So he pulled himself together. It was by far the hardest thing he had ever had to do.  
“John” he whispered. “John..” John only moaned.  
“We’ll be at the station any minute now” Sherlock said. “We have to stop.”  
“Why!?” John complained.  
“Because Lestrade might be there, and Anderson. And they are gonna have a field day if they see us like this.”  
John sighed heavily at this, and with great difficulty he tore his hands away from Sherlock.  
“Good boy” Sherlock purred in his ear, and they almost went at it again.

“All right, we’re here” one of the officers said. Sherlock slid off of John, and John almost wept. He watched Sherlock as he buttoned his shirt back on, and thought to himself that it should be a crime to make that man cover himself up. To watch Sherlock dress rather that undress was pure torture. He resisted the urge to pinch Sherlock’s butt as he was getting out of the car.  
They were led into the station and their names and prints were taken before they were thrown in a cell for the night.  
John could hardly believe his luck when he saw that they were alone in the cell. He turned to face Sherlock who were obviously thinking the same thing, because he pushed John down on the small bed and straddling himself on top of him. His erection was pushing firmly against Johns and they both moaned with pleasure. Sherlock started kissing John everywhere, and John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. He still couldn’t fully grasp how this had happened, how they had ended up here, like this, but he didn’t really care. All he cared about was that Sherlock apparently wanted him just as much as John wanted Sherlock.  
He moaned when Sherlock slid his hand down into his pants again and grabbed his cock. Sherlock then started stroking him slowly, and John almost came right there.  
“Sh.. Sherlock” he stammered and Sherlock grinned at his reaction.  
He leaned in and kissed him hard. He was really pinning him down on the bed. John didn’t know where Sherlock had learned to kiss like this. He’d had to find out one day. He started unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt again, but Sherlock stopped him.  
“You first” he whispered, eying Johns sweater.  
John didn’t hesitate. It was getting extremely hot in the small cell. He pulled of his sweater revealing only a white t-shirt which he also pulled off.  
Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat, and he froze for a moment, taking in the glory of John’s body. He then he started kissing John all over his naked chest. He even licked him, which John loved.  
Their sweaty bodies were pressed together and they both moaned when their erect cocks was pushed against each other. John suddenly didn’t care that he was in a holding cell at the police station. He had to see Sherlock’s cock. Right now. He had been dreaming about it for ages and he found that he could wait no longer.  
“I want to see it” he whispered, and cupped Sherlock’s erection with his hand. Sherlock let out a small gasp.  
He leaned in on John’s neck and kissing it, biting it.  
“It’s all yours” he whispered in his ear, and John shivered. He unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers and slowly drew down his underwear.  
Sherlock’s huge cock was gaping back at him, and John could control himself no longer. He reached out and touched it. Sherlock gasped and fell into him.  
“John” he stammered. John tightened the grip a bit and started stroking him slowly, very slowly.  
Sherlock rested his head against John’s neck and was breathing heavily.  
“J…John.. I’m…” he panted.  
John loved hearing his name like that. Loved the way his name sounded on Sherlock’s lips.  
He turned his head against him and kissed him with tongue.  
Sherlock then suddenly decided that he wasn’t going to let John have all the fun, and he started unbuttoning John’s trousers with great difficulty, because John kept on stroking him and it was very hard to focus.  
Suddenly Sherlock’s hand was on John’s cock and John moaned loudly, tilting his head back from the pleasure of it. Sherlock licked the exposed neck, which produced even more loud gasps from John. They continued stroking each other until they both came at the same time.  
It was by far the greatest orgasm John had ever had. Hell, it was the greatest sex he’d ever had.

They both lay there for a long time, just watching each other, both breathing heavily. Neither believing how lucky they were.  
Sherlock insisted that they get dressed knowing that Lestrade would come for them first thing in the morning, and though the inspector would undoubtedly be hearing the rumors from the other officers at the station, Sherlock didn’t think he needed to see them like that. So they got dressed.  
They fell asleep in each others arms, both of them listening to the others breathing, thinking that if they had to spend the rest of their lives in a cell, like this, they would die a happy man.


End file.
